


so baby drive slow ('til we run out of road)

by clicheanna



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cars, Chance Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Motorcycles, and mentions of Niall Horan, because soul mates, it's fluff with cars and motorcycles, or an excuse to write louis on the back of harry's new motorcycle thing, side Ziam, there's only like two sentences about it though, which is also only like two sentences, yeah that's really it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clicheanna/pseuds/clicheanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry goes for a ride. He meets Louis.</p><p>(or the one where Harry still buys a motorcycle and fate sets him and Louis up.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	so baby drive slow ('til we run out of road)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this most of yesterday on a pure whim to write something and it's honestly the most ridiculous thing I have ever written.
> 
> Not in a bad way, just the closest thing to a crack fic I have ever come to.
> 
> Inspiration is obviously from the Harry motorcycle stuff from a couple weeks ago and an AU idea I had a couple weeks before that.
> 
> Title credit to 'Fearless' by Taylor Swift.

“You bought a motorcycle.”

It’s not a question, really more of a judgmental statement, so Harry crosses his arms, giving his best glare at the couple standing in front of him.

“I did. And I’m going to the store on it to pick up our groceries.”

Zayn and Liam share a glance that makes Harry clench his fists.

“Do you even have a license for it?” Zayn questions, furrowing his eyebrows.

Harry rolls his eyes. He’s not _dumb._ “Yes, Zayn. I’m not gonna kill myself.”

“You can still get hurt,” Liam points out.

Harry resists strangling them both. “And you can’t in a normal car?”

Zayn and Liam don’t seem to have a response to this as they stand in their garage, warily eyeing the black motorcycle beside them, a helmet strung on one of the handlebars.

Harry knows they’re just looking out for him, see him as a little sibling that needs to be watched over because he’s always running into things and breaking them and isn’t quite sure what’s right and what’s wrong. It’s not that far off, really, when you take into account Harry has as much elegance as a dog walking in 5-inch stilettos, and although he lives with Zayn and Liam and they’re all close friends, the two are always off on dates or up to creative sex activities in the house, leaving Harry to his own devices.

And maybe he hasn’t made the brightest decisions before—like that one time he got drunk and streaked in the local park and almost got arrested for public nudity, or when he prank called Niall while the lad was on a date with his longtime crush—but _loads_ of people have motorcycles. They have a sex appeal, they’re fun, and you can easily drive past other cars when they’re going too slow.

“If you’re sure…” Liam eventually says, with an obvious distaste of Harry leaving on the bike.

Harry sighs. “Look, I’ll be fine. And if for some odd reason I do get hurt, I’ll take it straight back to the shop.”

Zayn and Liam seem reluctant, but don’t protest when Harry straps on the helmet, climbs on the bike, and drives out of the garage.

 

**◊◊◊◊**

The ride is an exhilarating experience.

It’s kind of like being on a roller coaster when you’re scared of heights, having a constant fear you’re about to tip over and fall right off. But the adrenaline and enjoyment pump through you, too, and it’s enough to push the fear back and smile through the trip.

He’s done practice and test rides before, but the real thing is a completely different story.

The wind is pushing against him, sending chills up his body while he heads down the streets. His loose flannel billows back, and he can feel stray curls that aren’t covered by the helmet slap against his neck.

It’s fast, too, fast enough to cause Harry minor heart attacks when he thinks he might have a head-on collision with the car in front of him or that he may have accidentally swerved a bit too much and won’t have the time to get it back to normal.

But everything’s fine and he hits a red light a little ways from the store, his break going smoothly. Harry rests the weight of his bike with one leg against the asphalt as he waits for the traffic light to change.

A car pulls up to the left of him before the light goes green, a silver Range Rover with the windows down.

Music pours out of the car—something by The Fray, Harry thinks, though he’s not exactly sure—and a voice was joining with the singer; a smooth, high, melodic voice that tied with the band so well that Harry turned to the car in shock.

A guy, maybe Harry’s age, more or less, with brown, feathered hair swept in a fringe, tan skin, and sharp cheekbones, nodding his head to the song and tapping the beat on the steering wheel and door.

The light must be one of those trick ones that stay red for five minutes but only green for five seconds because it still hasn’t changed. And Harry has to thank his lucky stars for that because this guy has him transfixed and unable to pay attention to the road or traffic lights.

The chorus to the song starts, and the guy sings like he’s on his own stage, performing in front of thousands.

“ _But ooohhh, the way you movin’, ooohhh, you turn me oonn…_ ”

His mouth forms the words perfectly while keeping the same key, but it’s hard to take it seriously in any way with the lyrics, and Harry can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him.

He slaps a hand over his mouth immediately after because that laugh could have passed for a bloody _jack hammer_ and there’s no way the guy didn’t hear it or not pick up Harry’s movement from the corner of his eye.

Harry isn’t all that surprised when the guy jumps in his seat and instantly stops singing, head snapping around to face Harry with a horrified look on his face. He turns back around quickly when he finds Harry’s already staring at him, trying to hide his amusement.

The guy doesn’t roll his windows back up, but he stays silent for a few moments as he only focuses on the lights, hands clenched around the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are turning white.

It’s obvious he’s ashamed, so against every nerve in his body telling him not to, Harry speaks up.

“The Fray?” he asks, loud enough to be heard over the roar of the road.

The guy doesn’t react for a few seconds, and Harry’s just about to pretend this whole situation never happened when he slowly twists around, biting his lip.

“Yeah,” the guy replies, a speaking voice so similar to that of his singing one, and maybe Harry should stop referring to him as _‘that guy’_ when he looks like the damn male version of Aphrodite.

He can see his eyes now, a striking blue, a color so beautiful it takes Harry’s breath away, and he didn’t even know that was _possible_.

“An odd song though, innit?” Adonis adds on with a bit more confidence as the song continues to play.

“Only when you’re having a concert in your car,” Harry jokes (although he’s not exactly sure how, because cute guys usually make Harry nervous and cause him to stammer; he suspects it’s Adonis’ carefree nature), and grins broadly.

Instead of being embarrassed, like Harry expected, Adonis smiles back.

“Louis,” he calls out, a glint in his eyes.

Harry’s confused for a moment before he realizes that, _oh, that’s his name, he’s giving me his_ name. “Harry,” he responds, and builds up the courage to give Adonis— _Louis_ —a little wave.

Is it a normal thing to share names with the person in the car beside you on the highway?

Could he get away with passing over his number, too?

Because Harry kind of really wants to do that.

Before Harry can make up his mind, there’s a sudden honk from behind them and a man shouting at them to go. The two break their stare as Louis sticks his head out the window and flips the man off, then returns Harry’s wave with a blinding smile and settles back into the driver’s seat, taking off down the road.

Harry kicks his feet up and leaves, too, before the man crashes his car into the bike.

He has a stupid grin on his face the rest of the way to the store.

 

**◊◊◊◊**

 

Harry’s in the cereal aisle getting Zayn and Liam’s requested Coco Puffs when he hears something drop beside him.

He looks over and finds a box of Cornflakes on the floor, and, raising his gaze, finds a familiar face gaping at him with an open mouth.

“Are you stalking me?” Louis says in a rush, hurriedly picking up the cereal box and placing it in the basket he’s holding, peering at Harry with mild disgust.

Harry blinks a few times as the words register in his mind. “Am I… _what?_ ”

Louis crosses his arms, appearing a lot like Harry did earlier during his conversation with Zayn and Liam. “Did you, like, follow me or something? Because that’s just creepy, mate.”

Harry shakes his head wildly. “I… _no_. No, this is honestly the craziest thing that has ever happened in my life.”

And that’s probably an exaggeration when Harry can name five crazier things that have happened because he’s friends with Zayn, Liam, and Niall, but he doesn’t want the single most fit guy he has ever met to think he’s stalking him, and he definitely doesn’t think it’s an ordinary thing to have a five minute or less conversation with a stranger on a highway and then meet them in the store not even a half hour later.

But Harry’s not complaining.

Again, this is the single most fit guy Harry has ever met, a guy who has no qualms with singing his heart out to a song that is blatantly about sex.

It’s like a match made in heaven.

_Please like guys please like guys please like guys._

Louis cocks an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really.”

Louis visibly deflates, uncrossing his arms with an easy smile plastered on his face. “Good. Then I can use this chance meeting to my advantage.”

Every part of Harry’s body simultaneously screams ‘ _YES!’_ and it takes a great amount of resistance to not punch a fist into the air.

So he grins, hoping he’s not making a poor misconception. “And what is that?”

Louis takes a step closer, and Harry has to try so hard not to laugh at the whole audacity of everything in the last hour.

“Well,” Louis whispers, voice sultry as he drags his gaze up and down Harry’s body, and just this one look could be enough wanking material for an entire month. “Maybe I can have a ride on your bike later.”

Despite the clear tightening of Harry’s pants, he says the first thing that comes to mind with a blank face. “I feel like that’s a euphemism.”

Louis just stares up at Harry—and he’s now realizing that Louis’ a couple inches shorter, which, for some reason, makes him even hotter—before he snorts, and then bursts out laughing, and doesn’t _stop_ for a good minute.

Louis’ clutching his sides by the time it’s over, and Harry can’t help but look down fondly at him because no one really laughs at his jokes, and that wasn’t even a good one, but Harry is willing to spend the rest of his life with someone who understands his sense of humor.

Louis places a hand on Harry’s chest, and says through a breath, “Just take me on a date, yeah?”

And, well, Harry can’t really refuse, can he?

 

**◊◊◊◊**

 

At Louis’ wish, even if it wasn’t exactly what he meant, Louis sits on the back of the motorcycle, arms wrapped around Harry’s waist and his head nuzzled into the space between his shoulders as Harry drives them down to a shopping plaza that he knows has an ice cream place.

They’ve both forgone their grocery shopping, deciding to do it after their mini-date when Louis will have the ability to put them in his own car.

They pull up to the small ice cream shop, one with a cartoon cow drawn onto the sign that hangs over the door, Harry setting the kickstand down while Louis climbs off and immediately takes Harry’s hand, dragging him into the shop and up to the counter with at least two dozen flavors on display.

Louis grins like Christmas came early, and the girl in a silly uniform manning the register smiles at them pleasantly.

“What would you two like?” she asks, resting an elbow onto the counter.

They give their preferred flavors and sizes and hand over a couple notes while the girl scoops the ice cream into cones. She hands over the cones with a _‘Have a nice day!_ ’ and the pair sit at one of the two-fitted tables in the corner of the shop.

“So this is a date,” Louis doesn’t hesitate to say, already starting on his ice cream, “and I expect to know everything about you in the next hour.”

Harry smirks, appreciating the change from the Louis that was in the car and the Louis now. “You already know I make bad jokes and can drive a motorcycle.”

Louis tilts his head. “You are kind of a dork, aren’t you? Here I thought you were a Class-A bad boy with a Harley.”

“This was the first time I’ve drove it since I’ve gotten the license,” Harry admits, hoping Louis wasn’t actually expecting a full-on bad boy.

 “Well, that was my first time on a motorcycle ever,” Louis says, without any reluctance. “Glad to share the experience with you.”

They end up staying there for a little over two hours, long after their ice creams are gone. They talk about anything and everything, make each other laugh until there are tears streaking down their cheeks, and Harry may or may not take the piss out of Louis for singing in the car.

The girl never kicks them out, and Harry owes her a huge thank you for that because this quiet place with a boy he only met that day but might be the tiniest bit in love with is the setting of one of the most perfect days he’s ever had.

It’s only when he gets a text from Liam asking where the hell he is that he decides it might be time to actually get the groceries he promised, and Louis also has a flatmate he has to report back to, so they throw their trash away and head back outside where the sun is starting to set, and clamber back onto the motorcycle, driving down to the grocery store again.

They park near the front of the store, somewhere close to Louis’ car, and hop off the bike. The two don’t say anything as they just stare at each other in the parking lot, Harry’s eyes repeatedly flicking down to Louis’ lips before he can’t really take it anymore and leans down to fit their mouths together.

It only takes a minute for Louis to respond, hands gripping at Harry’s shoulders while Harry’s arms wrap around Louis’ waist. It’s fast and hot from the start and Harry has to remind himself they’re in a _grocery store parking lot_ to pull away.

Louis’ lips are red and his cheeks are flushed, and it’s almost like a daze as he flutters his eyes back open.

“Hey,” he whispers, corners of his lips turning up. They’re still impossibly close, foreheads almost pressed together.

“Hi,” Harry replies, just as quietly, as he’s suddenly struck with envision of genius.

He slips out his phone, pulling up a new contact page and passing it over to Louis.

“How about a proper date,” he says, “next Saturday?”

Louis takes the phone with a grin, tapping away before handing it back. “I’d love to.”

“Great,” Harry breathes, phone clutched in his hand, and kisses him once more, drawing it out and regretting when he has to pull back. “Go do your shopping.”

When Harry finally gets back home with bags of food, around seven o’clock, Zayn and Liam are waiting in the kitchen with disapproving faces.

“Did you knock yourself unconscious on that damn bike for a few hours?” Zayn says, mostly as a joke.

Harry shakes his head and smirks at him as he places the bags on the kitchen counter. “Nope. That damn bike got me a date next Saturday.”

He doesn’t stay in the room long enough to see Zayn and Liam’s astonished faces.

_**fin** _

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm going to be posting a new chapter to YGSIN later, as long as the prologue to something else I'm writing as an original story for my friends to read that I will change into a fic version as I go along.
> 
> You can talk to me/follow me on Twitter: @broken_anna  
> or on Tumblr: larryarrow.tumblr.com


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